


Of Harpies and Flowers

by SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight



Series: They Go Together. [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs in the woods, Confusion, Don't worry about the OC's they only appear because my research showed so little, Embarrassed Jaskier, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Geralt gets mildly injured, Geralt of Rivia is Soft, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Jaskier and Geralt can communicate with looks and touches, Jaskier starts it and Geralt allows it, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, Still learning how to tag, he just wont admit it, kind of, restless Geralt, sex with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22462189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight/pseuds/SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight
Summary: “Dandelion?” He mumbled to himself.In which Geralt learns another of Jaskiers aliases and a little about his past, even if Jaskeir doesn't answer his questions. Among other events such as fighting a harpy.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: They Go Together. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624777
Comments: 26
Kudos: 307
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development





	Of Harpies and Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> SO, again, mainly I have seen the tv show and glimpses of the third game "Wild Hunt". 
> 
> If you haven't read my other fic, By The Starlight, I suggest it. It's not crucial to this story; but this takes place after that one. Basically what you need to know is that Jaskier gave Geralt the silent treatment. In response Geralt says way more than he has ever. I think. His reasoning is that he want's Jaskier to stay, and words are the only weapon he thinks will work. 
> 
> Like I tried to tag, don't worry about the original characters. They are there to provide character development and are only slightly necessary to the plot. It's probably bordering on AU but that's okay, it's still in the world and time frame though. Jaskier is about — , that might be a question that comes up. But I have no idea because it’s after the mountain but then Jaskier isn’t there when Geralt finds ciri, but ciri knows Dandelion sooooo I don’t know 27 ish?
> 
> Please let me know what you think. Even if you just really liked this one little line, or this part of a scene. It means a lot to know what people like, and by omission what they don't. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading!
> 
> I'll try to get these into a collection together. Maybe. No guarantees. 
> 
> Not proofread yet....As always please let me know if you see any glaring mistakes.

GERALT

They are traveling between towns again. Work had been scarce near the big cities, that was usually the case, but Jaskier and his lute usually made up for it. Still he was restless. That’s why they were on the road again. He looked across Roaches haunches at Jaskier walking on her other side. They really needed to buy a new horse, but Roach was being stubborn about who she would allow as a companion. Geralt couldn’t bring himself to be upset, she likely got it from him. So, instead he was walking with the bard. Their relationship had shifted in the last few months, but he couldn’t say that it was a negative one. Specifically where having a bed mate was concerned. He grinned at the thought, then snorted. 

“What is it Geralt?” Jaskiers voice was soft and melodic. 

“Hmmm, just thinking about us.” He responded looking back at the road. 

“What about us?” Jaskiers steps faltered, voice more serious. Geralt kept walking. He didn’t hear footsteps following after a minute and stopped. ‘Words,’ he thought to himself, ‘he wants words.’ He turned back to Jaskier.

“ Come on. It was nothing negative.” He waited a moment for Jaskier to catch back up. 

“Geralt.” He took a breath. Sighed,

“About not fucking you in the ditch.” 

“O- OH!” He moved to Geralt's side of Roach who snorted with annoyance.

“I mean, maybe not in the ditch, but,”  
Geralt's hand was taken and he allowed himself the contact.  
“Against a tree might be fun. Or not, never mind. That’s a bad idea with the bark, and oh all the pitch. But maybe in a nice clearing with a stream nearby to wash in? Under the stars? Oh, or under the trees… Oh, but against a tree. It would be new, sexy even. Me pushed up against it and you having your wicked, wicked way with me. If only it wouldn’t hurt my back so bad....Geralt are you listening? I’m giving you all kinds of excellent ideas.”

He was certain that Jaskier was wiggling his eyebrows, even without looking. If the bard wasn’t careful he might just get his new wish. Geralt couldn’t hear anyone nearby. Still, he desperately wanted a bath, they'd been walking for a week now. Two people can play this game, he thought. 

“Or, I can keep walking to the village. Then I can fuck you proper in an inn, with a bed.”

“Or in the bath?” 

“Or in the bath.” 

“Ooh you’re going to spoil me?”

“Mmmm.” Back to silence, he’d leave the bard with that. Jaskier remained beside him as they walked on, fingers laced. 

Geralt listened to Jaskiers humming, surprised that the lute hadn't been brought back out. Regardless he was content with the way the sound resonated in Jaskeirs throat. It sent a wave of want through him. He pushed that aside, barely. Jaskier was absently rubbing circles into the back of his hand. Abruptly he pulled away, a horse and rider were approaching quickly. He heard the beginning of a whine where the humm had cut off, but it died in the bards throat when the rider came into his view. 

JASKIER

He would have been much more upset by the sudden loss of contact if he didn’t know Geralt better. Still, the abruptness was jarring. Perhaps it was something that they’d need to talk about. He understood the impulse on Geralt's part, approaching rider or not. Besides, he was certain that no one was going to bother a witcher about holding hands with a bard. Still there was his reputation to uphold, and the perception of distance and superiority to maintain. As the rider approached it slowed and he was grateful he was beside Geralt instead of on the other side of Roach. There was something off, he could see it in the way his witcher tensed, hand ready to draw his sword. He could see it in the way that Geralt had looked at him and back at the rider and when he spoke he knew he had to obey.

“Be quiet Jaskier.” Geralt's voice was low, quiet, dangerous.  
He nodded to affirm that he had heard.  
The rider slowed to a stop and glanced at them both. He was young, maybe 16 or 17, handsome, blond. He had a rip in his uniform shirt, on the shoulder, and on his back. It was crudely wrapped. 

“Don’t go any further! There’s some kind of flying beast near the mountain cliffs. It’s attacking anything that comes near them. It’s dangerous. No one can get through to the village. Gods know we’ve tried.”

“Harpy.” Geralt grunted, nose wrinkling. Jaskier wondered what he was smelling. 

“I'm sorry?” The boy said, “ what are you on about?” 

“ The creature that’s attacking, it’s a Harpy. Winged beast, humanoid in shape. Large clawed hands and feet.”

The boy blinked,  
“ Wait.” He said, realization dawning on his face “Are you A Witcher?”  
Geralt nodded once.  
“Would you, by chance, be willing to help? It would save me the trouble of going to the city for reinforcements.”  
Jaskier could see the excitement in Geralt's features, in the thin line of his mouth, the way his brow furrowed. It was in the way that he glanced at him first before speaking. Jaskier nodded. This is what they did. 

“ On Roach, we’ll make better time.” Jaskier smiled he loved riding the mare as rare as it still was. 

GERALT

It didn’t take them long to reach the soldiers camp.  
He nodded to himself. The soldiers had wisely set up camp far enough from the cliffs that the harpy didn’t feel threatened enough to attack them. Still, he wondered how long it had taken them to figure it out. He slowed beside the boy. 

The boy’s name was L—. A man of large stature stalked towards them, he looked up meeting the Witchers gaze. 

“Aye, Witcher, da boy convinze ya to ‘elp us?” The man, obviously in charge, asked roughly. Geralt recognized him, they’d interacted before. 

“Yes. If it’s a harpy, like I believe it is, you and your men will struggle to rid yourself of it for some time.” The man barked out a laugh.

“Ye, ye” he waved a hand in front of himself, “ all th’t ‘side, if ya’ll dill wit da beast fir us we’d pay ya well. 

“Just the one?”

“Far as we know.” The boy piped in.

“Aye.” 

“Jaskier. Stay here.” His voice came out rougher and more commanding than intended. Still, he needed to make sure the bard listened to him. 

“You will give me all the details, yes?” 

“Yes.” He sighed, forcing his face to remain neutral and impassive.  
He felt Jaskier dismount Roach behind him. He felt a squeeze on his arm in the process, ‘stay safe’ it said. He watched the shorter man straighten his clothes, words spilling from his mouth.  
“All the details Geralt.”, ‘ you will come back.’ Geralt huffed in annoyance, but responded a little more gently than intended with others watching the exchange.

“Yes Jaskier.” 

With that he turned Roach towards the mountain cliffs. Harpys, while annoying weren’t the most difficult thing for him to face. He knew it would be a little more difficult without a trap, but he could use Igni, or Aard, or even a well placed slice with his sword would give him the only edge he really needed. He might even avoid getting much gore on him. This might be a touch irresponsible but he could feel the thrill of the hunt rising in him. The sudden need spurring him on. He had been growing restless before they left the cities, the movement of traveling was helpful but not the same. If the results of not taking the time to set a trap and the decision to not use a potion were irresponsible, so be it. If this hunt took a little longer than it probably should, that wasn’t a problem either. 

He slowed Roach, he could detect the faintest scent of the harpy lair. He dismounted roach with a “Stay here girl” and continued into the denser part of the woods, at the bottom of the cliff. He drew to a stop. Closing his eyes he inhaled deeply, listening to the rush of wind in the trees, hand poised to draw his blade.

JASKIER

He noticed that he was being watched. Not, that being watched was a problem. 

“Anyone like music?” He asked with jovallity breaking the silence. He received a few nods and as the murmur went through the crowd of gathered soldiers, a few more drew close. He smiled to himself, and re-tuned his lute. When he had finished, he turned to his crowd and began to play.  
Three songs into the performance a man called out.

“Bard, you know any songs about sailors?”

“One or two!” He called back absently strumming his lute.

“You know the one about a Drunken Sailor?”  
Jaskier only nodded and seamlessly switched tunes. 

“What will we do with a drunken sailor?  
What will we do with a drunken sailor?  
What will we do with a drunken sailor early in the morning?”

GERALT

He reacted in a moment. Entirely dependent on his instincts, he dodged to the right bringing his sword down in one fell swoop. He smelt blood in the air. His sword had landed a blow, not a fatal one, but one that would help fair the fight. The harpy came at him again massive claws swinging. It couldn’t take flight. He dodged again rolling to the right, again. Sticks poked into his legs at the movement, small twigs catching in his hair. When he came to his feet he lunged forward, catching the harpies other wing. He knew he should cast Igni and be done with it. That he shouldn’t dance around with the beast. That was a lesson he’d learned long ago. Still the need to be rough, to kill something, to hunt, drummed in his heart. Adrenaline flowing through him with each beat. The harpy screamed in pain and fury. It lunged at Geralt kicking and flailing at him. He recoiled. A claw dug into his arm. He hissed. Cursing at himself he brought his sword between himself and the harpy hurriedly moving backward. He’d allowed himself to get caught up in the thrill. A potentially deadly mistake that had him bleeding and pinned between an angry harpy and a thick tree. At this distance Igni was dangerous to himself as much as it was to the monster. Instead he cast Aard and the harpy fell back. Geralt moves forward thrusting his sword through the harpies throat. He twisted the blade and pulled it to the left, effectively cutting off the harpies screams and ending it’s pathetic life. He made quick work of removing the rest of the head. He grunted and looked at his arm.  
“Fuck.”  
It stung, and it was in need of stitches, but it would heal barring any infection. He whistled for Roach and set to work retrieving anything he could sell. He collected the feathers, claws, and when roach arrived he collected the eyes dropping them into a vial which would preserve them. He bandaged his arm as well as he could on his own, which was admittedly well, and set back towards the soldiers. They could destroy the den, he didn’t need to worry about that. 

JASKIER 

After listening to a few songs, and a few stories about Geralt's kills, they had moved to playing gwent and drinking. His deck was in his bag on Roach, so he was resigned to watching. L— and some of the other young soldiers, they were the most inclined to play, and a few of the older ones as well. It was getting late, and worry nagged at him. He was sure Geralt was mostly fine, but restlessness was dangerous. And really, how long did it take to kill a single harpy. He shook his head. At this rate they would not make it to their destination. The destination that he still didn’t actually know. He sighed unnoticed, and looked in the direction Geralt had gone. He stood abruptly.  
“Your back!” He got a grunt for his trouble. That was fine, appearances and all. He could handle that. He looked Geralt over eyes roaming for any sign of injury. His eyes stopped on Geralt's left arm. His heart was in his throat. Absently he reached for it.  
“It’s fine Jaskier, just a cut.” His voice was quiet, warning, but not upset. Jaskier dropped his hand back to his side. He nodded not trusting the state of his voice. He watched absently as Geralt and the commander exchanged words, the harpys head, and the coin. He followed, lute on his back. When they were away from the crowd he swallowed, stealing glances at his lover.  
“Geralt… Geralt I don’t mean to push but thats, “ he gesticulated at the wounded limb “still bleeding. Are… are you sure we don’t need to deal with that?”He knew he sounded far more concerned then the witcher would like but that was who he was. Roach nickered in agreement.  
Geralt grunted. 

“It needs stitches.” 

“I can do that for you.”

“I know.” 

“We should do that sooner than later. We won't make it to wherever you have us going. Maybe we should just stop for today. Clean your wounds, deal with twigs in your hair, set up camp, discuss where we are going, in that order.” 

“Jaskier.” He understood. They’d deal with it later, further away from people. This was the part that really stung. 

They set up camp, quietly. Jaskier made a point of doing any of the work that required heavy lifting or the use of both arms. He knew Geralt wasn’t such a fan of this but he really couldn’t help it. The need to do something, to help, or to fix drove him forward. When they finally settled, forgoing a tent for the night Jaskier put water in the pan to boil. They carried a few essential cooking devices including a deep pan and two mugs. 

“Let me look at that will you.” It was an ordered disguised thinly as a request and spoken in soft flowery tones. He watched the Witcher sigh through his nose and roll his eyes.  
“Fine.” His words were as calloused in sound as his hands looked. Jaskier shook his head in exasperation. They had about 45 minutes of light at best. 

Gold was changing the tops of the trees, the clouds hovering underneath the setting sun were painted in shades of vivid pink and brilliant orange the occasional splash of blood red and plum purple complementing it. He had made himself comfortable on the large man’s injured side. Hands that were gentle and graceful on his instrument we’re just as tender if not more so on the Witcher. His fingers danced over the skin as he worked the bandage of deftly. His actions were calculated with careful consideration. He sighed in relief, breath dusting over Geralt's arm, he hadn’t started the bleeding again. He worked with a soft hum. The other man watching every movement. He wrung out the cloth, the water was laced with herbs that would help with the pain and the avoidance of infection. He worked quickly, cleaning the wound with practiced precision. He still hated doing this even after so long. Yet it felt right, like he needed to do it. So, he did and he smiled at the trust his partner showed.

GERALT

He closed his eyes. The bard was both trusted and cursedly attentive. No one's hands had any right to be so relaxing, so amiable. Nor, should they have Geralt so trusting. But as Jaskier would say ‘here we are.” Geralt slowly, slowly softening the barriers he’d had in place for so long. Jaskier would die well before him, this he knew well. For the moment though, for his bards sake, he’d try to be present. If that meant that he let him within the stronghold of his heart and mind, he’d allow it. For now that looked like relaxing even as a needle and thread was pulled through his arm. He remembered the first time Jaskier had offered to do this. It hadn’t been pretty, and the bard had actually gotten ill when he had finished. Now it was accomplished with a well practiced ease. He broke from his quickly darkening thoughts by a quiet almost hesitant, 

“You’ve hunted harpies before and been fine. What - why did you get injured this time?”  
The voice held no anger just a worried curiosity. He let out a low rumbling “mmm” and Jaskier sighed, “Alright,” and kissed his cheek suddenly. Then the immediate loss of body heat forced Geralt to open his eyes. The bard was on the other side of the campsite. He blinked, mildly annoyed and slightly confused. Jaskier tended the fire from his new spot. Geralt narrowed his eyes. Jaskier had begun doing this after the mountain. His silence in exchange for Geralts’ words. He watched the bard work, penning something by the firelight. A ballad or a poem maybe. Geralt sat straighter and began tending his swords. He cleaned them, sharpened and waxed them. When he finished with the blades he moved to his armor.  
“Come here.”  
He ordered after the silence had gone longer than he liked. No response. So he added,  
“Please.” Still no response.  
”Jaskier.” A tad louder and rough too. The bards lips twitched. They lapsed into silence again the musician winning whatever silent battle was occuring. ‘Dammit’ Geralt thought to himself. This silence was ranked high on his list of very bad experiences. 

His mind made an unwanted connection abruptly. This silence would be what he had when Jaskiers mortality claimed him. And when that happened, because it would happen, it wouldn’t just be silence, he wouldn't even be able to look at the man or watch him perform. That made him uncomfortable. He outwardly shifted trying to make his mind go elsewhere without dropping into meditation. He clenched his jaw. The sudden need to protect the younger man, and hold him swirled in his mind, both overwhelming.

”Jaksier will you please come here.” He tried allowed. This got him a curious look.  
Then,  
“That was a normal harpy. I’ve watched you kill plenty of them.” 

Translation ‘why were you being foolish?’ He shook his head and held his good arm open. Jaskier obliged on the unspoken condition that he speak. 

“The thrill of the fight distracted me. A rookie's mistake. It’s been a while since I fought anything.” A rough whisper.

“It-It wasn’t because you were slow or anything? Just stupidly reckless.” Jaksier leaned into him and Geralt rubbed his arm in response. He hoped it was reassuring.  
“Okay. That's okay then.” Jaskier continued softly, breathing out the words. Geralt felt the smaller man relax against him. His body untensing for the first time since he’d seen him injured that day. His heart was finding its rhythm again, panic had been seizing him too.  
“Why were you worried.” The question comes out a low rumble.  
“Just a memory, a fleeting fragment of a conversation…” he trailed off trying to burrow into Geralt's side, as though he were afraid he would go somewhere.  
“We’ve had a lot.”  
“Yes.”  
And Jaskier is drifting, content. Geralt pulls him close and drapes the nearby blanket over them. Then, sure Jaskeir is asleep and Roach is dozing in the quiet night, Geralt smiles. It’s a genuine smile, one shared with only the stars. 

JASKIER

Jaskier wakes to see Geralt checking Roaches equipment. He smiles wrapping the blanket tighter around him. The morning air is brisk against his skin. Autumn is on the way. It’s rather beautiful he thinks to himself. The sun is just rising, grey white light surrounds them. Its ethereal. His mouth is moving before his brain is thinking.  
“I love you.”  
It’s just above a whisper, a breath in the air, gentle as a spring breeze. It doesn’t break the early morning silence. It’s enough though, to make Geralt stop what he’s doing. He turns and makes eye contact with the still seated musician. There’s something to soft on his face, to tender in his eyes.  
Jaskier watches, almost like he’s not in his own body, as those golden orbs drew nearer to him . A low “hmmm” and then he was being kissed. He melted into it. A disciplined hand tugged lightly at his hair, reassuring. a reminder that he isn’t going anywhere. Not yet. Then the witcher was gone. He groaned at the lost contact and so very slowly opened his eyes. He stretches and lingers on the ground a few moments more.  
Finally he stands. He takes a moment and then folds the blanket up. Geralt made short work of the meager camp they had set up. Jaskier joined him, and tucked the blanket into one of the saddle bags.  
“So,” he starts softly, savoring the serenity of the early morning, “ Where are we going?” 

Geralt doesn’t answer right away, and then Jaskier is stepping backwards. A large calloused hand on his hip and one in his hair, pushing and pulling him backwards all at once. Geralt was kissing him fiercely, a complete one-eighty from just a few moments ago. Jaksier moaned into his mouth as his back came in contact with a tree. He had very specifically asked for this, so he was not going to complain… except, maybe the pitch. But then Geralt is kissing his neck, arms securing Jaskier to the tree, and he knows the man on him can smell everything he's feeling. Excitement, arousal, lust. He knows too that there is no one around or Geralt wouldn’t be allowing this to happen,let alone starting it. He tugs at Geralt's hair, missing the feeling of lips on his own. He’s rewarded with a tongue in his mouth. And Geralt knew what he was doing because he found that sensitive spot on the roof of his mouth and Jaskier was a mess instantly. But gods he wanted more. He works at the ties on the witchers shirt, and his own. His hands roaming over a bare broad chest while Geralt's shirt hangs open. His thumb flicks over a nipple and that rewards him with a low, primal growl. Excitement pools in his stomach. Geralt moves to his collarbone, biting hard enough to leave little bruises. He’s rough, but the level of rough Jaskier accepts, is okay with. 

Geralt palms at his manhood through his trousers and he lets his head fall back mewling in need and want. Geralt's other hand is running up and down his bare chest. He feels a thumb underneath the waistband of his pants and a single sharp tug. The air, still cold forces Jaskier to inhale sharply. He feels more than hears Geralt's laugh, lightly against his bare chest. Then those lips are dipping lower, kissing, licking his way down and Jaskier has never had this before. This is usually what he does. A kiss on his hip, his thigh, then a warm breath ghosting against his now very hard cock standing at attention. One long lick from the base to the tip with the broad part of the witchers tongue, and he's squeezing his eyes closed. The tip of the witchers tongue runs along his slit and then back down on the other side. A kiss at his base and then another at the tip. And he’s engulfed in the mouth of his lover. Its new, and this alone is nearly enough to make Jaskiers’ knees give out. He stabelizes himself with hands on Geralt's shoulders, hips firmly held in place. 

Jaskier realizes quickly that Geralt is either a very attentive man and fast learner or he’s done this before. It doesn't matter, as his tongue swirls and his head bobs. His mouth hot and wet on Jaskier as he sucks and when Jaskeir gives a needy tug on his hair moaning out  
“Geralt.”  
The witcher groans around him. It’s nearly too much and suddenly the mouth is gone, and his dick is being kissed again. Then the same mouth that a moment ago was making him shiver is moving back towards his mouth. He whines, 

“Geralt, please. At least finish what you started.” 

He’s not begging, his voice is as ragged as his breathing and it’s said with such force Geralt pulls back to look him in the eyes. One eyebrow quirked.  
“Your getting bold.” His voice was low, husky. He grabs at Geralt's hips drawing him closer. The witcher lets him. They both know Jaskier wouldn’t get him to do anything he didn’t want to. And Oh. Jaskiers eyes flutter and his forehead falls on the taller man’s shoulder because he’s just as hard. He rolls his hips into the others and it elicits a low groan.  
“Dammit Jaskier.”  
He hears between clenched teeth, so he does it again. And then Geralt is pulling away. Jaskier waits, watching attentively. The witcher removes his boots and his trousers. Jaskier looks him up and down unabashed, smirking. And then Geralt's lips are on him again. Their bare erections rubbing together as their tongues dance. Geralt has Jaskier pinned to the tree with one hand the other firmly holding their arousals together. Jaskier is gasping, muscles twitching, tightening.  
“Oh, ah, Ge-Geralt, I’m -” Geralt pulls away again, still stroking himself. Jaskier grasps the tree behind him trying to stay upright. Geralt is smirking, smug, golden eyes never leaving the smaller man’s face. Watching him watch. Then with motions to quick for a normal man, Geralt was kneeling between his legs again. Jakiers body responded eagerly as the wolf’s mouth returned to his aching, weeping cock. He feels Geralt lick playfully at him, then his nose brush against his base, an inhale and an exhale. Then Jaskier is crying out, teeth brushing just harsh enough against the sensitive flesh of his manhood as Geralt sucks, hallowing his cheeks to take him in. 

GERALT

He swallows, no sense in a mess. Besides, he decidedly likes Jaskiers taste. He looks up at Jaskier, barely upright, flushed, and completely spent. His hand moves faster on himself. He’s close too, and this has been fun. Then Jaskeir’s knees give out and he slides down in front of Geralt. He’s still breathing hard. Geralt hyper focuses on Jaksiers lips, the way his tongue darts out to lick them. And then he’s being kissed again, and Jaskiers hand is on him. It doesn’t take long for Geralt to spill his seed all over both their hands. He breaks the kiss, saliva still connecting them. It’s messy. He smiles, not the smile he had last night, but the one that says, you asked for this. They both sit there, breathing, getting ahold of themselves. Finally, Geralt stands, and picks up his clothes, and then Jaskeirs. 

Roach had gone off a ways, not really wanting to see what they were going to do. Jaskier looks up at him, and he looks away. They need to get moving again, as much as the disheveled, lust hazed, and very prettily naked image in front of him begs for them to remain there and do it all again. He’s taken a few steps and Jaskier has yet to stand. He turns around and silently proffers his hand. It’s taken without hesitation and he pulls the bard to his feet. 

They bathe quickly and silently in the stream. Its cold, but they dress and are back on the road before the chill sets in. Jaskiers smiling like the world doesn’t exist. Humming an exceptionally upbeat tune. Geralt allows himself a wry smile. ‘I love you’ echoing in his head. He couldn’t say it back. Not yet at least. He was a man of action not of words, so he hoped Jaskeir understood. 

“Where are we going?” That again. He didn’t look over.  
“ K—”. And he hears Jaskiers heart speed up. 

“That’s exciting.” 

“Mmm” ‘go on’ he means, but he’s certain Jaskier will. 

“When I was fresh out of Oxenfurt, before I went back and taught for a while, I was encouraged to apprentice with someone.” 

“You taught?” He’s surprised. He feels his body go rigid with the thought. Jaskier teaching. 

“What, oh yes. Anyways, I apprenticed in K— with Casimire. He’s a retired bard, lives there running a tavern and taking apprentices. Taught me a lot ol’ Cas. His daughter must be an adult by now, Margerie. She was twelve last time I was here. She helped me pick my name. Sweet girl. Wonderful voice.” Geralt cut him off. 

“You taught? Jaskier isn’t your… real name?” 

They’re at the entrance to the village now. A few people are milling about, casting them looks. One woman in particular stops and stares at them. 

“Dandelion? Dandelion is that you?” A gentle voice calls out. And Jaskier is moving towards it a bit stiff at first.

“Dandelion?” He mumbled to himself. It’s a young woman with a very rounded belly, pregnant. Dark brown curls hanging down her back.

“Margerie, look at you, all grown up and having babies! Who's the lucky man?”  
They exchange a quick hug.

“Filip.” She blushes. “We married last summer.” 

“Congratulations! Your father must be so excited.” 

“He is. Composed a new ballad last night. Are you staying around for a while?” Her eyes are green and full of innocent curiosity. Her gaze moves from Jaskier to him. He still has Roaches reigns in his hands. He’s watching carefully. She smiles, she doesn’t smell like fear, it’s there, but it’s subdued, barely there. Then she’s coming towards him. This is different. She holds out a hand. He blinks. Looks at Jaskier and back at Margerie. Then he extends his hand. 

“I’m Margerie Lis.” Her voice is like honey, gentle and trusting.

“Geralt of Rivia.” He responds. He doesn’t school his voice. There’s no point. She smiles and he feels a little ease. 

“Why don’t you both come with me. We’ll put you up at the inn free of charge. And you,” She looks at Jaskier, “ can tell us all your new stories.” Then she's looking back at him, “and I presume since your here, that that beast that was attacking people has been dealt with?” It was only kind of a question, with barely audible inflection. 

“Mmm” 

“He means yes.” 

“Not one for speaking then?” 

“Only if he has a reason to.” 

“Ahh, well I imagine you take up all the air anyways.” 

Jaskiers indignant in an instant. Geralt watches with fondness. 

“What? Why Margerie, I do know how to be quiet! I quite resent that statement.” She laughs like a brook. He listens as they banter back and forth. The inn is fairly large for such a small village, but it’s on a well traveled route so it makes sense. A man watches them approach. Tall, lanky, clean shaven, with amber hair and brown eyes. 

“Filip, look who's back!” Margerie calls. He smiles and waves.

“It’s good to see you again, Dandelion. And who is your... friend?” Ahh. There it is, the fear, the uncertainty. 

“Filip Lis, Geralt of Rivia.” Jaskier says smiling. There’s an awkward, pregnant silence. 

“It’s, uh, good to meet you.” He says uncertain, brows drawing into a frown. ‘Words’ he thinks.  
Jakier comes to his rescue,

“Filip, why don’t we go in and let Geralt tend to Roach. Then I can get all caught up with Casimir.” He has a hand on filips shoulder and one on the small of Margeries back. He winks at Geralt over his shoulder. He nods in response. When he enters the inn, Jaskier is speaking loudly with an older man. He assumes it’s Casimire. As soon as the doors. closed behind him Jaskier turns and catches his gaze beckoning him over. 

JASKIER 

He’s excited to be back here. Really he is. But there is nervousness deep at his core. Geralt has been giving him such strange looks since Margerie had called him Dandelion. And that was his name, or one of them. Really. Of course, he’s said more about his past in the last day then he had in their entire time together. It was warranted. 

“Geralt,” he said pushing an ale towards him. “ This is Casimire, Casimire this is Geralt.” 

Casimires eyes light up, and his next words make Jaskier flush red hot.

“Your muse, or your lover.” He feels Geralt go very still beside him, like a corpse. He licks his lips and glances at Geralt who makes eye contact and then shrugs. ‘Your call.’ 

“Both.” It comes out softly for Casimire only.  
The older man smiles. He leans forward. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Geralt.” Geralt nods, and says, “Likewise.” Jaksier breathes. 

The others rejoined them and they spend the next few hours catching up. And then he’s being called Dandelion again. He hasn’t used that particular alias since he started traveling with Geralt. He laughs at himself, its funny too, because Jaskier means buttercup, which is fairly feminine. Dandelion is a step up from that right? He shakes his head. Casimire recommends they play some music during the supper hour. They do. They play remarkably well together. He shouldn’t be surprised, this was his old teacher. Casimires newest apprentice joins them. There’s no awkwardness, just joy. Then they are requesting songs from him specifically and he knows he’s soaking it up. He knows maybe he should stop and join Geralt. But when they make eye contact he knows he can continue. Geralt is smiling a barely there smile. So Jaskier continues. He’s dancing and singing, and Casimire joins in with his flute. And it’s a perfect, completely wonderful night. 

He sits beside Geralt again when they are finished and Margerie is with them. Filip is tending the horses. Casimire and his apprentice Emil join them. 

“Dandelion, you’ve gotten better. That last one, you composed it yourself? Gorgeous.” Margerie says grinning. Casimire hums his agreement. Emil looks at him curiously. 

“Dandelion? I thought your name was Jaskier?” 

“It’s actually Julian.” Casimire says and now he has two sets of curious eyes on him and one set is golden. He purposely doesn’t look at Geralt. He taps a melody against his ale. He lets out a breath. Time for another story he supposes. 

“Alright, alright, stop looking at me like that.” He glances at Geralt. Geralt's still watching, intently. Interest flickering in his eyes.  
“My given name and title is, Julian Alfred Pankratz viscount de Lettenhove. However, I assumed that that life would be boring. I think my experiences have proven that. I much rather enjoy what I am doing, and have done with my life. I thought I would. I've always been inclined to travel, to seek out a story. So, I walked away from that life before it began. When I was an apprentice here, “ he looks at Emil and back at Geralt and finally settles on Margerie, “ I decided I needed a name to travel with. So Margerie and I thought about it for days. What were you, just turned seven maybe? I was what? Seventeen?” 

“About.” She says happily.

“Anyways, she brings me this crown of buttercups and dandelions braided together and says they remind her of me.” He takes a drink and continues “ I decided I can’t break her heart and have to choose at least one of them. She insists on Dandelion. But it’s much more feminine then Jaskier when you say them. Jaskier doesn’t sound like a flower. I know what it means, buttercup, by the way Geralt. I guess I just like the sound better?” 

“What no!” Margerie interjects. “Everyone here called you Dandelion for a whole year at your insistence. There’s even songs penned by Dandelion that have made their way back here, then all of a sudden they stopped and Jaskeir got popular! Spill Dandelion why the change?”

He shrinks into his chair a little. He’s embarrassed and Geralts is studying him intently, and Margerie in turn. Margerie continues, so he tries to sit straighter and smile. It’s not difficult just more personal that he thinks he’s ready for. 

“We talked about flower meanings too! And Dandelions represent the sun, moon, and stars at different stages in their development. And,” She continues without proper pause to breathe, “Dandelions are lovers gift of happiness and total faithfulness. And you went on and on about how poetic is was. So I’ll ask again, what changed?”

He shrugs and sips his ale. There is silence at their table and the background noise is deafening. 

“I guess,” he says nervously, “ before I actually knew Geralt, I was worried about the perception he’d have if I introduced myself as Dandelion.” 

Geralt snorts and sends him an amused look. He smiles at that and brushes a hand against the others well toned leg under the table, barely there. Geralt nods the faintest nod, he understood the gesture, it went unseen by the others. 

He watches as Geralt excuses himself to check on Roach and then retire for the night. One of the barmaids has set up a bath in their room. He talks late into the night with his old instructor turned friend and others whom he had developed long standing relationships with. Finally, he has to go face Geralt. He yawns. 

“I better turn in for the night Casimire. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The man smiles at him. 

“Good night Dandelion.” He grins knowingly at him and Jaskier smiles weakly back. He was nervous but this wasn’t the first time he had been nervous around Geralt. He walked quietly up the stairs. When he entered their room, he decided to forgo the bath, it was likely cold anyways. His lute had already been tended for the evening. There was nothing to keep him from crawling into bed. He quietly moved to the bed and stripped down to his underclothes. He was unsure whether Geralt was asleep or not. He laid there for a moment before he felt Geralt shift. The room had two beds, but they’d been moved together to be one larger bed. 

“Took you long enough bard.” 

“Mmm” Jaskier hums, not sure what to say. “ Sorry love.” It comes out meek. Geralt kisses him barely, just the ghost of lips against his own. 

“ I like it.” 

“What?” And he’s sitting up again. 

“Dandelion. I like it. It suits you.” Geralt says with closed eyes, still entirely comfortable against the mattress. 

“Oh. Thank you.” And Geralt rubs him back down, breathes in his scent, leaves the ghost of a kiss on his jaw and then a strong arms pulls him close. He rests his head against Geralt’s chest. He finds he’s smiling contentedly, it’s been a good day. 

“Thank you, for this morning.” He whispers against Geralt's chest. Closing his eyes and breathing in, calm, thankful.

“What else was I supposed to do, Dandelion, with all those ideas you gave me?”

Jaskier shuddered at the rumbling of Geralts chest against his ears, the possessiveness in his voice. Then he’s pinned to the bed. He smiles and knows he’ll die a happy man if His Witcher keeps this up.


End file.
